An all familiar rankling stirred the sleepy eyes. A spray of rain drops from that almost invisible crack on the window pane brought back a flurry of thoughts. Navigating byzantine memory lanes isn’t all that difficult, especially when you know what you are looking for. It was the same old crack which had set of a chain of events. It still remained there, not speaking about the complacency of the resident, but of those memories it harbored…
Come monsoon, skies are awash with grey looming clouds. The drizzle had already made its presence felt to me…I wasn’t out in the rain, but sleeping on a bed.. rather more like another article forming a sea of inanimate objects jostling for space on that tiny little bed. Chill breeze through the crack brought along an occasional bout of spray, refreshingly frosty and a break from the monotony called life. Somehow, the spray of misty blue water was an aberration to an otherwise placid stifling setting of the room. I decided it was time to fix the crack, not because I was annoyed by the spray, but more because of the fixated lunacy about the spray being so genuinely out of place in this lifeless room of 10 x 10.
Walking up to the window and trying to give one hard look at the mischievous crack which dared to try me, my eyes narrowed on to a shuffle outside. Had it not been for the voluptuousness of the creature out in the rain, my crack would have still held my gaze. Here was I, trying to improve my gaze, get more of what was being thrown at me. It should have been eons since man made his first civilized break, yet here was I ,stirred to the basest of instincts a man could feel. There was something more ,those eyes…
Large black eyes, a bit larger and it would have fitted the description ‘bulbous’. There was a glint of wild yet draped by genuine unfathomable warmth. She was wet ,her silhouette making its presence amply felt .There is something innate about certain actions, which throw the seeds of doubt, inhibition self evaluation right through the window. It was same for both of us, for what transpired next was in line with those actions…actions, which in any other circumstance, context would be baptized by some very alluring adjectives. I threw open the window and asked her to come in. Not even a for a moment did the doubt of her refusing flicker , even for an effervescent time.
What happened next is for your lucid (lewd?) imaginatory juices to take over the reigns …yes, the crack still remains and so does the bizarre events which followed and more so the memory like a whip flogging a horse, a horse for which the laceration inflicted is just another thing…yet, no denying it…it does surface, every time the spray spouts like a beached whale ………